


it’s all fun and games until...

by somewhereelse



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Post-2019 World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Sonnett:I have come up with a three step plan to get Christen to marry you.Tobin:I’m listening.Sonnett:Step one, get her to play truth or dare.Tobin:Oh god, stop.Sonnett:Step two, wait until she picks dare.Lindsey:Sonny, no.Sonnett:Step three, dare her to marry you.Kelley, from the other room:It could work!Credit, inspiration, and blame goes tothis Tumblr post.





	it’s all fun and games until...

**Author's Note:**

> Freaking Tumblr.
> 
> Half AU? Like _all_ of it’s AU _clearly_ because RPF—I can still make that mental distinction, _thank fuck_—but a reimagined mash-up of the post-WC Utah-Portland games.

It’s two nights before Utah Royals FC plays Portland Thorns FC at Providence Park. The game’s on Saturday, and Utah’s last game was Wednesday night, so a few certain Royals have flown out early. Which means they’re expecting a mess of people over for a mini national team reunion dinner.

Christen and Kling are out at the grocery store, being the only ones they trusted to complete the errand in a timely and reasonable fashion. AD and Emily, and however much of their vegetable garden Christen’s requested, are coming over later, same for Arod and Adam and the boys once they finish up at the Children’s Museum and Becky and Zola after some time to themselves. 

For now, there’s just Sonnett and Lindsey on her couch with Kelley (of all people) and Ana in the kitchen working on the prep list Christen left behind. Tobin would help but she’s unofficially banned from the kitchen and relegated to babysitting Sonnett whenever she’s over.

She’s been looking forward to tonight for weeks now. Not just having Christen home but also getting to have some of her people all together and without any itineraries (other than Christen’s) or “adult” supervision (aside from Becky).

“Tobs, check it out.”

“Huh?” she jerks back to the present and looks over at Sonny, squished in between her and Lindsey. She’s intently leaning forward, controller caught in her death grip, while Lindsey’s on her other side, looking way less invested in the Mario Kart race she got roped into. “What’s up?”

Sonnett tosses the controller aside with an eye roll, ignoring that Lindsey somehow cruised to an easy victory and left her in fifth place. Instead, she turns to Tobin with that mischievous smile she’s grown wary of. Tobin’s as goofy as any of them but some days she can’t keep up with these kids. Her joints just have too many miles on them.

“I have come up with a three step plan to get Christen to marry you,” is Sonnett’s grand announcement.

Tobin chokes on air while Lindsey snickers into her hand.

It’s not that they’re _not_ headed there. They’ve talked about it, both casually in passing and with intent and purpose. Tobin has a ring hidden with her paints and other art supplies, the one place Christen doesn’t mess with when she’s straightening up every other square inch of the condo. It’s just— 

No one _else_ is supposed to know.

But it’s apparently some kind of open secret.

Tobin rolls her eyes but decides to humor Sonny. She throws her elbow onto the top of the couch and props her head on her fist, giving her full attention. “I’m listening.” 

Sonnett’s smile widens, crinkling her eyes. Tobin knows there’s nothing remotely serious to be taken from this three-step plan. 

“Step one,” she proclaims in a ring announcer’s voice while raising a single finger. Then she pauses and turns to Lindsey. “Linds, are you paying attention? Might need you for this.”

Lindsey, who’s checking her phone, is clearly _not_. “Uh huh,” she sets down her phone and looks up with exaggeratedly wide eyes, “Go for it.”

“Step one,” Sonny repeats to build the suspense even more, and Tobin can’t help but grin at her dumb antics, “get her to play truth or dare.”

The laugh bursts out of her. Tobin knew not to take this seriously but she wasn’t expecting _that_ to come out of Sonny’s mouth. High school games are no way to propose, especially not to _her_ future wife. She doesn’t think Christen would tell her to ask again later—and seriously—for the principle of the matter, but it’s not a risk she’s willing to take.

“Oh god, stop,” Tobin pleads once she’s caught her breath. She’s pretty sure it’s only going to get worse from here. Lindsey’s sighed prayer to the ceiling is basically confirmation of that theory.

“Step two,” Sonny continues, completely unbothered by, and probably loving, their vaguely horrified reactions, “wait until she picks dare.”

“_Sonny_,” Lindsey groans from where she’s buried her head in her hands, “no. Just _no_.”

Sonnett shushes Lindsey and carries on, voice rising. “Step three! The third and final step of this brilliant master plan.”

Like it’s not _completely_ obvious, Tobin thinks. 

Surging forward to create her own drumroll on the coffee table, with her wild grin getting wider, Sonnett asks, “Can you guess, Tobs? Can you?”

Tobin swipes a hand down her face and starts to answer in a completely flat voice, “Dare her to—”

“Dare her to marry you!” Sonny cuts in to finish. She stands to launch herself over the coffee table and gives a deep bow to zero applause.

“It could work!”

The shout comes from the kitchen, and they all turn in surprise, kind of having forgotten Kelley’s in there with Ana.

“O’Hara, you help her with this brilliant master plan?” Tobin calls into the other room and just gets laughter back in response. “Wait till I tell _your_ girlfriend,” she mutters with no real threat to it.

“So,” Sonny crashes back onto the couch but mainly onto her and Lindsey, “when are you going to put my brilliant plan into effect? Tonight? I’m thinking tonight would be good. Critical mass of people and whatnot, or should we wait so Allie and Ash can livestream it?”

The front door opens, and Christen and Kling, arms laden with grocery bags, walk in to find Sonnet sprawled across Tobin and Lindsey before being unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

“Yeah, this seems about right,” Kling nods.

Christen just sighs and heads for the kitchen.

* * *

They’re crammed in around the dining table that’s really not meant to fit twelve people and two mini-people, with half of them on chairs borrowed from Kling’s condo.

As if they aren’t already practically sharing a seat, Tobin’s got her right arm across the back of Christen’s chair. Her left hand’s resting on the table, just short of their now-empty plates and tangled loosely with Christen’s. Occasionally, she’ll squeeze Christen’s hand, or Christen will squeeze hers, and they’ll glance at each other and share a smile.

Times like these, Tobin’s acutely aware of how lucky she is. Good food, good company, a career she loves playing the sport she loves, and the woman she loves even more. What else could she ask for?

Tobin knows exactly what else she would ask for. A wedding just like this, low-key and relaxed and filled with the people they love and who love them right back. It’s a weighty thought for the light-hearted conversation, and she does her best to dial back in before Christen notices.

“Hey, you know what would be fun?” Becky asks once Arod’s back from walking out Adam and the boys, who are headed back to the hotel for bedtime, well before their mom’s ready to say good night to her friends.

“What?” Sonnett prompts from the other side of Christen. 

It was a strategic seating arrangement. With Ryan and Luke there, they wanted to minimize the possibility of injury and property damage as much as possible, and that meant keeping the boys with their mom and Sonnett with Christen. For some reason Tobin’s still trying to figure out, being near Christen always brings out Sonnett’s best behavior, which isn’t always saying much.

She catches Becky and Sonny exchanging a knowing glance. On any other night, Becky’s another sobering influence on her heiress apparent in the backfield. Tonight’s not like any another night.

Becky grins and offers up, “A good, old-fashioned game of truth or dare.”

“_No_,” Tobin groans, long and loud, “no, no, absolutely not.”

Suddenly, her heart’s racing, and her palms are getting sweaty. Christen’s timing earlier was a close call that set her more on edge than she was willing to admit. But having it brought up again? It would be too easy for them to take the teasing a step too far, even if just by accident.

“Why not?” Kelley smirks at the other end of the table. Lindsey and Ana wisely stay silent as everyone else looks confused by the random turn in conversation. “You _love_ truth or dare, Tobs.”

She shoots Kelley a dirty look. “Since when?” Tobin grinds out, feeling Christen’s hand tighten comfortingly around hers.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to, babe. Let them have fun. None of us have to report until the afternoon anyway,” Christen, peacemaker as usual, attempts to negotiate.

Knowing it would be suspicious to keep arguing, Tobin relents, “Fine, but you’re not playing either. Kelley’s probably going to dare you to kiss Lindsey or something.”

Christen snorts over everyone’s laughter, since they all know that’s exactly what Kelley would do. “Wasn’t planning on it,” she confirms and leans in to kiss her cheek in thanks for playing nice with their guests.

In the end, no one but the three conspirators are particularly interested in playing so the conversation moves on.

It isn’t until after everyone’s pitched in to help clean up and carry chairs back to Kling’s and left, and Kelley’s shut away in their guest room, and they’ve gotten into bed, that Christen brings it back up.

“Hey,” she starts, turning onto her side and leaning her head against her propped hand, “What was that about earlier? Truth or dare? Seemed too random to actually be random.”

Tobin sets aside her book and drops back against the headboard with a quiet thud. “Nothing, really. We were just talking about games before you and Kling got back, and it carried over.”

“But _Becky_ brought it up,” Christen points out with a frown, “and you seemed upset.”

Tobin knows she’s not trying to make a thing out of it on purpose. Christen doesn’t love those types of shenanigans and is good at drawing boundaries to avoid being dragged into them. She’s only paying more attention this time because Tobin acted, and _was_, affected, which was her own fault for letting them get to her so easily.

“Yeah, I guess Sonnett or Kelley said something to her earlier. I wasn’t actually upset, though. Just wasn’t expecting to have it coming from Becky, too.” She blows out a heavy sigh and slides down to sink into her pillow, hoping Christen accepts that excuse and lets it go.

“Mmkay,” Tobin’s eyes are closed so she doesn’t see it coming but feels the bed shift as Christen reaches over to gently smooth down the annoyed crease between her eyebrows, “As long as you’re not upset.”

Her eyes peek open, and she smiles reassuringly at Christen’s slightly skeptical expression. “I’m not. Promise. Let’s just go to sleep? I won’t even remember in the morning.” 

She holds her arms out wide and waits for Christen to switch off the bedside lamp and all but collapse on top of her. As usual when they have guests, Tobin gets a quick peck on her lips, and one more on the tip of her nose for good measure, before they settle into each other’s embrace. A couple shifts to tangle together even more and a few random itches scratched later, they’re breathing deep, grips loosening and eyelids slowing.

“Love ya,” Christen murmurs, so far gone the words are more reflex than anything.

Tobin, equally on the verge of unconsciousness, mumbles back, “Dare ya to marry me.”

She’s asleep by the time Christen’s eyes spring back open.

* * *

To no one’s surprise, Christen’s the first up in the morning. Tobin drifts between awake and asleep as Christen goes through her routine in their bedroom, instead of out in the living room in case Kelley wakes up. By the time she’s wrapping up, Tobin’s alert enough to be a good girlfriend and host and stumble into the kitchen to start the coffee.

The smell of the dark roast entices out Kelley, and once Christen joins, they quietly scrounge together breakfast out of last night’s leftovers. Then they’re crashing onto the couch, with the intent of not moving until their staggered practice times. Except maybe for more food.

Kelley’s phone interrupts their laziness. She glances at it and reports, “Sonnett and Lindsey are getting brunch. Want to know if we want to come.”

The “we” there is generously inclusive. Pretty much everyone knows to leave her and Christen alone if they’re reuniting after more than a couple days apart. It’s nothing against the rest of their world, but they prefer to emerge from their hibernation on their own time.

After they politely decline, Kelley peels herself off the couch to change and casually mentions she’ll meet Christen at the stadium. On her way out the door, gym bag in hand, she throws them an obnoxiously exaggerated wink and practically sings out, “Have fun, kids!” 

They roll their eyes, but it’s a small price to pay for precious hours alone. If only Sonnett or Lindsey weren’t still living like the twenty-somethings they are and had a spare bed to offer Kelley. And if only they weren’t all so close, that they’d rather have Kelley with them than in a hotel before the rest of the Royals arrived, and then, well, she might as well just stay the extra night, too.

Kelley—and probably everyone else—is being overly presumptuous anyway. They’re already cozy and comfortable on the couch and still exhausted from too many games in too many cities in too few days. All they manage to do is make out a little before Christen’s yawning into her mouth and blushing and apologizing. 

Tobin grins and kisses her cheek instead. “Nap?” she suggests because it’s enough just to be in each other’s space. 

Christen kisses her deeply once more in gratitude before they hunker down under a pile of throw blankets. She only dozes for a little while then she contents herself with studying her girlfriend’s gorgeous face until it’s time for football. Tobin extracts herself, limb by limb, from Christen and breathes a sigh of relief when she avoids waking her. Before leaving, she packs Christen’s gym bag as best she can and sets two alarms on her phone for her.

Tobin’s still not trying to wake her but she leans down to brush a quick kiss against Christen’s temple. They won’t see each other again until tonight (or as Christen would phrase it, they’ll _get_ to see each other again tonight), and Tobin aches a little knowing they’ll leave and arrive in separate halls of the stadium, missing each other like ships in the night.

* * *

Both clubs have team dinners that night. It’s good for bonding and camaraderie but would probably be more effective if Tobin could stop physically fidgeting and mentally focusing on a girl in a restaurant a couple blocks away. She doesn’t miss her teammates’ knowing, indulgent smiles when it takes her three tries to hear a question.

Tobin beats Christen and Kelley back to the condo. The quiet, especially compared to the night before, unsettles her so Tobin does something she’s been accidentally neglecting. She reads and reflects on some of her favorite scripture passages and prays, thanking God for her blessings (Christen, family, friends, football, health, Christen again) and asking for his guidance in her next steps.

By the time the other two quietly, but still giggling, slip in and head to the separate rooms, Tobin’s already in bed and hardly awake. It’s the night before a game so alcohol isn’t responsible for the giggle fit. Christen’s just buzzing from a good dinner with teammates, and it makes Tobin smile sleepily.

They repeat their bedtime routine of settling into each other and—this time, without an accidental proposal—fall asleep smiling.

The next morning is barely organized chaos with three people shuffling around to get ready for a late afternoon game (that requires an early afternoon arrival) instead of just Tobin. That’s not even including the logistical issue of getting Christen and Kelley to the stadium separately because they can’t exactly show up with her in the Thorns’ pre-game entrance coverage. Eventually, everyone’s fed and dressed and heading out the door, and Tobin and Christen barely have the wits to exchange a quick kiss and their traditional, slightly confused, “Good luck? I guess? I’m not really sure,” before jumping into separate transportation.

Tobin thinks they at least put on a good show for the crowd. It’s always an interesting feeling playing seriously against Christen, instead of just goofing around on drills or slightly less seriously during scrimmages. But they’re both too competitive to put forward anything but their best, and too in love to take home any tension from the ninety minutes.

The game ends in a 1-1 draw anyway. Tobin assists Lindsey’s header, and Christen makes a beautiful run for a rocket of a strike. The equalizer frustrates her during the run of play, but from the replay she watches the next day, it’s a Goal of the Week candidate, if not winner, that makes her smile proudly. After the final whistle, they meet in the circle for a quick hug then it’s off to post-game duties.

Kelley doesn’t follow them back home but heads to the airport from the stadium. Utah is finally getting a week off after a long stretch of games, and it’s been too long since Kelley’s spent meaningful time with her girlfriend. So Tobin, kept company by Sonnett, is waiting for _just_ Christen outside the visitor’s locker room.

“Going to play truth or dare tonight?” Sonny asks, back on that wagon.

Tobin rolls her eyes and doesn’t bother answering the question. “If you’re just here to make fun of me, you can leave.”

“What? No, I want to see Press real quick. I didn’t mean to—” Sonnett cuts herself off, looking sheepish. It was a hard tackle early in the second half. Barely a yellow but a rough landing that made most everyone suck in a concerned breath, and Sonnett hasn’t had a chance to check in with Christen since helping her back up.

“Sonny, she’s fine,” Tobin is quick to reassure her, “It’s just a game. You know that, and she knows that.”

“I know,” Sonnett mumbles but she sticks with Tobin, quietly now.

Tobin covers her smile with her hand. This is why she loves the kid. For all of Sonny’s antics, she’s such a good egg.

Christen emerges, freshly showered and looking all kinds of pretty. She hugs Tobin first but moves onto Sonnett quickly, sensing the need for reassurance of some kind. As they walk out to the parking lot, Christen doesn’t bring up the tackle but asks Sonny about her newest plant acquisition instead. Just like that, all’s forgotten since it had already been forgiven.

* * *

“Hey, Tobin?” Christen calls. She wanders into the living room with both hands behind her back and a silly little smile on her face. “Want to play a game?”

“What kind of game?” Tobin smirks suggestively, voice pitched low.

“Later,” Christen demurs, clearly interested, “First, pick a hand.”

Tobin studies her girlfriend carefully. Looking at Christen is never a hardship, one of her favorite pastimes really, but right now she’s trying to spot the difference in her posture, find a tell, see if one bicep is flexed more than the other for grip. Except Christen is a professional athlete and therefore excellent at controlling her muscles so Tobin’s got nothing as Christen stands there stock-still yet relaxed.

“What do I get if I win?” she asks, trying to distract Christen into giving something away. It’s just a playful, meaningless game, but nothing’s ever _just_ a game to Tobin.

Christen rolls her eyes. “_Me_. Didn’t we just establish that? Now pick already,” she demands impatiently.

Tobin perks up at the reminder of _later_. “Right,” she blurts, guessing Christen’s dominant hand.

“Nope,” is the happy and smug response.

But Christen doesn’t move her hands to show Tobin what’s behind her back, only quirks a challenging eyebrow. So Tobin approaches her, the determined look in her eyes causing Christen to shuffle back a step even as she smiles wide. 

“Left then,” she tries again.

Christen laughs so brightly that for a second Tobin’s step falters and she just grins back. “You already lost. You can’t just change your answer.”

“Can, too. How do I know you didn’t switch hands?” Tobin accuses baselessly, childishly, and closes the distance between them.

Christen doesn’t retreat again but lets Tobin “trap” her. She lets Tobin circle her arms around her shoulders, lets her trail her hands down her arms, and lets her pull her fingers loose. The entire time, she’s smiling, and Tobin’s smiling, both relishing the quiet, simple moment to just _be_ and have fun together.

Then Tobin’s fingertips brush against what Christen’s got in her left hand, and she stills _entirely_, smile dropping as her throat tightens and goosebumps break out. 

“Babe,” Christen says quietly. Her smile’s not gone but softer, and she takes in what must be panic on Tobin’s face with only a curious look. “Are you okay?”

“Uh.” It’s the only sound Tobin’s capable of making at the moment. She shakes her head, clears her throat, and tries again, “Whatcha got there?”

Like Tobin doesn’t already know. Like she didn’t feel the nap of the velvet, the size (or lack thereof) of the box, the slight indent of the opening crease.

Christen plays only a little coy. “I think you know,” she answers and brings her hand up between them.

The little velvet box rests flat on the palm of her hand.

All the blood’s rushing to her head so Tobin needs a second to process. Then it registers. _This_ little velvet box is a deep burgundy color, not black. It’s not her ring, but at the same time it’s absolutely _her_ ring.

“Chris?” she practically whispers.

“Congratulations, you won.” Christen’s smile is blinding. Her nose scrunches, her eyes almost close, her cheeks have to be hurting from stretching that far. It’s just like her goal-scoring smile, but _better_.

“But I didn’t,” Tobin denies mechanically. 

She didn’t. 

She picked the wrong hand. 

_How_ did she pick the wrong hand? _Of course_ it was the left. That’s where an engagement ring _goes_. 

How is this even happening right now? 

_She_ was supposed to— 

Christen was the one who took the first step, who then followed her pace and timing, so _Tobin_ wanted to be the one to—

“Tobin.” Christen’s voice is just a tiny bit sharp, just enough to cut through the millions of thoughts and feelings and sensations running through Tobin’s everything. “Do you want your prize?” she nods down at her hand, suddenly sounding small and unsure.

And, God, she’s messing up this moment just because—

Tobin doesn’t wait for the thought to finish. She engulfs Christen in the biggest, tightest hug possible, trapping her hand and the ring between them uncomfortably and tripping them into a stumble against the wall. She doesn’t care, though, just pushes her face into Christen’s neck, laying kisses on whatever skin she can reach, mumbling “_yes_” in a constant stream, until she can pull it together enough to reach her _fiancée’s_ lips.

* * *

They’re naked and blissful and taking a needed and earned break from celebrating when Christen decides to stop her heart again.

“Be honest. Was the truth or dare thing because you were going to dare me to marry you?”

“_No!_” Tobin scrambles to sit up a little, jostling Christen in the process. “No,” she repeats more calmly, “_seriously_ no. I didn’t know how yet but I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me using a _game_. I know that’s not how you would have wanted it, and it’s not how I would have wanted it for you. It was just this dumb plan Sonnett came up with. I’m pretty sure she was joking.”

“What was even the plan?” Christen raises her eyebrows incredulously, “Somehow get _Becky_ to suggest playing truth or dare? Because that way I _really_ wouldn’t see it coming?”

Tobin snorts. “It wasn’t even that thought out.” She sighs and tries to remember exactly. “Three-step plan. Step one: get you to play truth or dare. Step two: wait for you to pick dare. Step three: dare you to marry me.”

Christen’s grinning by the end. “That’s almost kind of cute. Very Sonny. And I have to say better than your execution at least.”

Tobin settles back down, relieved Christen sees the humor in it all. 

Then, “Wait, what? I never _executed_—”

Christen smiles to interrupt her. “It was that night. We were falling asleep. I said, “I love you.” You dared me to marry you.”

Tobin’s gobsmacked even though Christen’s still amused. She’s been thinking about it, long and hard, and everything lately seemed to remind her of taking that next step. But Tobin never expected a simple joke to have gotten into her subconscious like that.

“It’s okay,” she soothes Tobin’s growing distress, “Gave me the idea. Maybe you wouldn’t have used a game to propose to me, but I think it was a pretty great way to propose to you.”

And it was pretty great. Even if Tobin did technically lose and Christen let her cheat to win, she got her prize—her ring but most importantly _Christen_—in the end. Christen will get her ring soon enough, too, once Tobin figures out how to get Morena or Khaleesi to wear a ring box.

(Tobin doesn’t make it to the morning and wakes Christen up in the middle of the night to slide her ring on her finger.)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m vaguely annoyed this team, and _these two_, have eaten my brain.


End file.
